Tuesday, February 7, 2006

Like a lot of people who read the web from several different places, I
use Bloglines as my RSS
newsreader. Bloglines allows you to make your subscriptions public,
so others can see what you've subscribed to. My subscriptions, for
example, are here.

What I did not realize is that you can see who is publicly
subscribed to any particular feed by clicking on the number of
subscribers. And that at least some information, such as the home
page you've given, is available to the public for each subscriber.

This was one was held at the
Piedmont
Avenue Branch Library, a tiny little building on 41st St., two
doors down from the apartment building in which I lived from 1997 to
2003. I was afraid that this library was so small that it would be
overwhelmed with people. I needn't have worried. All of six people
showed up, other than the moderator (a Main Library reference
librarian). I was the youngest person present by a decade, I suspect,
and the only male.

Literary criticism is not one of my great strengths, so I was quite
prepared to be quiet and not say anything. I didn't get that
opportunity. Not only were there only six other people there, but
four of them hadn't read the book. What's the point
of going to a book discussion if you haven't read the book? I can
only imagine that the enjoyment of the book would have been lessened
by giving away plot points.

Anyway, although I tried not to talk too much, with only two other
people there who knew the book I couldn't really be quiet and let
those with a clue speak. Oh well.

Even though the turnout was disappointing, I'm glad I read the
book and showed up. Magical-realist novels aren't something I
normally pick up for myself. I did read One
Hundred Years of Solitude (doesn't its Spanish title, Cien
años de soledad, have much better rhythm?) in college,
eighteen years ago, and later The Octopus,
which although written before the term was coined, does seem to
have some elements of magic realism to it.

Yet it's good, once in a
while, to expand one's boundaries, and the idea of reading the same
book as others in your community has a lot of appeal. And, given
that the book is set in Oakland and explores themes of cultural
assimilation, it's certainly a good choice for the program, even if I
don't regret not attending some of the cultural events ("The Art of
the Sari: Indian clothing demystified at this hands-on workshop for
families and kids"). Let's see what book they pick next year. I
wonder if I can get them to read The
Death and Life of Great American Cities?